


show me your tears, show me your scars

by theonlytwin



Series: darkest heart [3]
Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: "First time for everything," says Valjean.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> kinda time stamps, kinda all the conversations i skipped in the rest of the series. some porn!

Valjean is the first person Javert’s ever - dated. Been in a long term thing with. It takes them months of dating to actually have sex, but that’s - fine because for first time daters, they’re moving probably at a pretty speedy clip. Probably. Javert’s not going to check with literally anyone. 

And the sex is - it’s great, it’s kind of mind blowing, it’s - it’s the first time Javert’s had sex with anyone more than a couple of times, gotten to know a body, and a mind. 

It makes sense that it would be Valjean, who was Javert’s first escapee, Javert’s first mayor, Javert’s first - all the other stuff. 

But because it’s his first, some things are - fraught.

***

A week after Amy’s birthday, Valjean untangles their legs, kisses him on the mouth, the cheek, the temple, says “Hang on,” and rolls across the bed.

Javert rocks his hips up into the empty air, head blank and eyes on Valjean’s ass. 

“I was thinking,” says Valjean, rolling back, sitting up, “um, maybe.”

He’s holding a bottle of - of - 

Javert doesn’t mean to end up on the floor, but that’s where he ends up. He knows to put his head between his knees, with a panic attack, and he does it, which gives him a peculiarly precise perspective on his own shrinking dick. 

“I’m sorry - Javert, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - we don’t have to do anything.” Valjean touches the back of his head.

“Yeah. No. I’m.” Javert breathes slowly in, and out. “I want to.”

Valjean’s hand slides up, stroking his hair. “I just - I should have been clearer, I thought we could start with making handjobs easier and - we don’t ever have to - “

“I want you to fuck me,” Javert tells the floor. “I want to fuck you.” He tips his head back, to look at Valjean - his eyes are wide, dark, worried. “I’ve wanted it, for a while.” He reaches back, takes Valjean’s hand, holds it to his mouth. “And it’s not my first time, but it’s yours. It’s my first time with someone I - care about. Someone who cares enough to - buy lube.”

“Jesus, Javert,” Valjean curves forward, presses his lips to Javert’s forehead. “You didn’t - say.”

“Yeah, I - didn’t think there was anything. To say. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise,” Valjean kisses his temple, his cheek, his mouth. “But - maybe get back into bed? If you want?”

Javert nods, clambers back onto the bed, lets Valjean pull the sheets over them both, stroke his hair some more.

“We don’t have to,” Javert says. “Just because I want to.”

“I do,” Valjean tells him. “Maybe not tonight, but - I’ve thought about it. I mean, the lube’s for handjobs, but also - yeah.”

Javert shivers, presses closer to Valjean. He’s never laid in bed with someone he wants and had the promise of future nights. Of pre-meditated purchases. It’s sweeter than he would have guessed.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve never - been into this stuff before,” Javert says, looking down. 

“First time for everything,” says Valjean.

“Is this - is this a dating thing?”

Valjean raises his eyebrows. “How should I know?”

“You have a daughter, who probably watched a lot of television in which people went on dates. You spend time with young people. More than I do.”

“I tried to discourage that kind of television. For all the good it did me.”

“Marrying the first man you like pre-dates television. That’s novels.”

“My own fault,” Valjean shakes his head, mock-sad, “teaching her to read.” 

“Yeah, you’re an idiot.” Javert spins the pottery wheel a few more times. “Is it done? It’s symmetrical, I’m bored of it, so I think it’s done.”

“You can ask the teacher, if you like.”

Javert glances up at the man in the beads who runs the pottery night. “I’ll wait.”

Valjean grins, and changes the shape of his vase entirely. 

Javert looks away from his arms - bare and flecked with clay - to the rest of the room. Some people here are young, some are old. There’s a family of four in the corner, the children flicking water at each other. There are several pairs he would classify as couples, including one man in his late twenties who keeps putting his arms around the woman he entered with, as if to guide her, despite the fact she clearly had more experience than him. 

“This is a dating thing,” Javert tells Valjean.

“Good to know. I’ll tell Cosette.”

“Please don’t,” Javert turns back to his wheel. “Please never mention this to anyone.”

“Why? You’ve made a nice vase. It’s very symmetrical.”

Javert considers flicking water at him, but the ‘teacher’ approaches them. 

“How you guys going? Feeling good about this? Feeling comfortable in the shape?”

Javert looks at Valjean out of the corner of his eye. “Yes.”

“Sure,” says Valjean. “I feel great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know how many chapters there are! at least two more?


	3. Chapter 3

“Really?” Javert asks, when Valjean slides his half hard dick along Javert’s hip.

“I can stop,” Valjean takes a step back, out of the shower stream. 

“No, I just - it’s been twenty minutes. I’m literally washing your come off now. Does your body know how old you are?” He wraps a hand around Valjean’s wrist, cups the other under his balls. “You’re a medical miracle, you know that?”

Valjean settles a hand on his shoulder, tilts his head back against the tiled wall. “Such a sweet talker, Javert.”

“Never had to before now,” he starts to pump his hand along Valjean’s dick, getting heavier already. “What am I supposed to say? You’re a miracle. You’re impossible,” Valjean rolls his hips forward, and Javert makes a desperate noise, which is insane, because he’s not even hard - his dick is twitching, but it’s too soon for normal humans. 

“You make me insane,” Javert tells him, tightens his fist, and Valjean gasps. “You’re so - fucking - impossible,” Javert says again, and lets go of Valjean’s wrist to hook a hand around his thigh - they’re extremely the wrong heights for this, but they’ve made weird work for them before. 

Javert bends his knees, hitches Valjean’s leg up - not all the way around his waist, just so he can reach around, slide his fingers through the mess of lube he left when he was fucking Valjean _twenty goddamn minutes ago_. “You’re a miracle,” he mutters, and Valjean groans in response, bucks his hips in between Javert’s hands. 

He’s all slick muscle and hard hands, sinks his teeth into Javert’s shoulder when he comes all over his stomach - again. Then he goes limp, sagging against the wall. 

Javert tilts the showerhead towards him, leans in to kiss and clean him at once.

“Oh,” he says, as Javert runs a washcloth down his chest. “You’re really - good at that.”

“At what?”

“All of it,” Valjean puts his hands on Javert’s waist. “Sweet talking and all.”


	4. Chapter 4

Valjean has two fingers inside him, is mouthing lazily at the crease of his thigh, free hand clamped around one of Javert’s ankles. 

Javert is sprawled on the bed, knees bent and his whole body alive, straining, fists clenched in the sheets. The first time they did this, Javert actually tore a hole in an old bedcover.

Valjean slides a third finger in, sighing against his skin. 

Javert whines, but Valjean slows down. 

“You’re so,” he says, and kisses him, near where his fingers are pushing, “so sweet. You feel so right. Look so good, taste so nice.”

Javert can only shiver, whine again.

He pulls his fingers out, licks down the crack, tongue dipping in and out - Javert wrenches his leg and Valjean lets go - he rolls over, huffing hot air into the pillow as Valjean puts both of his hands on Javert’s thighs.

“So lovely,” Valjean murmurs, and goes down again.

Javert feels as though he’s going to vibrate out of existence, almost shouts, “Please. Valjean, please.”

Valjean fucking - laughs, with his tongue inside Javert’s ass.

“Please,” Javert says, pushing his dick against the bed sheets, which is not enough. 

Valjean kisses him one last time, pushes himself up, leaving Javert cold and twitching. He gets his hands around Javert’s hips and flips him over like he weighs nothing.

“Like this,” he says, sliding forward, dick bobbing, “so I can see you.”

“Wait,” Javert says, and Valjean freezes. Javert almost wants to kiss him just for that. “I had - all these reasons why I love you. There was a list. I can’t remember it.”

Valjean blinks, blinks again, says, “You - what?”

“Don’t - you knew, already. Don’t make me say it again.”

“I love you,” Valjean grins. “I love you and I love you for telling me.”

“I wanted to say it but I had this whole speech, but you’re always - shut up. Just shut up. Can you - please, now?”

Valjean laughs again, rubs his dick against Javert’s ass, sliding over his hole, says, “Anytime.”

He sinks in, so slowly, lays down so his body covers Javert’s, bucks his hips, just a little, so Javert’s just full of him.

Javert mouths it against Valjean’s ear, nearly silently, and Valjean’s breath hitches.

“I love you,” he tells Javert, before he draws out, pushes in again, looking down at Javert, looking astonished.


	5. Chapter 5

He identifies constellations for Valjean one evening, drawing lines with his finger.

“I wouldn’t have picked you for an astrologer.”

“I’m not, that’s the zodiac, that’s bullshit. I just know the astronomy.”

Valjean raises his eyebrows, asking the question.

Javert looks back up at the sky. “When I was young, my mother and I moved around a lot. The state kept - trying. To take me. We lived in cars, pretty much, and I never knew where we’d be, any night. Never knew what she'd say our names were. Who my father was meant to be.” Valjean takes his hand, squeezes it. Javert clears his throat. “But the stars, they never changed. The constellations, I could learn them, find them where ever we were. Watch them out the car window when we were driving off too some other thing, and they’d just - stay. With me. Like they were looking out for me.” He shakes his head. “Dumb, probably, but later, I got a prize once in science class for this poster - they wanted me to go to this NASA thing, but - anyway.” He wipes his face, quickly. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

He glances at Valjean, who is crying - of course he is, the man cries about everything. 

“It’s not dumb,” Valjean says, choked.

“Yeah, my imaginary friends were balls of burning gas literally light years away, Valjean. It’s pretty dumb.”

Valjean cups his face in both hands, pulls him down, looks him in the eye. “You were a child. You were scared. You were clever.”

Now Javert is crying too. Valjean holds him close, and they cry together.


	6. Chapter 6

“I used to be very efficient, you know,” Javert says, tucking in his shirt.

“I remember,” says Valjean, holding out his tie.

“I went years - years - without ever being late.” He snatches the tie, winds it up around his throat.

“Could set a watch by your patrols,” Valjean presents his tie pin.

“With my - background, I couldn’t afford any reprimands.”

“Really. What’s that like,” Valjean says, flatly.

Javert sighs, mostly at himself. “I’m saying - I never had - any indulgences. Before you.”

Valjean holds out his jacket. “What, you want an apology?”

“No,” Javert ducks his head, “no, I’m trying - I’m trying…” He looks up, and Valjean has his hands on his hips, an eyebrow cocked, is shirtless. He looks frustrated, but in a familiar, fond, entirely unfrightening way. “I’m saying you changed me.”

Valjean rolls his eyes, smiling. “You’re always telling me I’m the sentimental fool.”

“You are. It’s rubbing off on me. I hate it.”

“Hate it?” Valjean steps closer, smooths Javert’s collar. “Is that why you’re late? Because you _hate_ spending time with me.”

Javert knows it’s a trap, and the thing is - it’s a Saturday shift. No one will be in before him. He’s not actually late, yet, because he committed to skipping a shower, he won’t actually be late if he leaves in the next four minutes, and that’s still doable, even if he just - just for like ninety seconds - indulges a little more. 

He leans down, the tip of his nose bumping the bridge of Valjean’s. “Yes. You are unbearable.”

Valjean lifts his chin, defiant, as he has been for as long as Javert remembers. “So’re you.”

Javert nods, and in the nod, their lips meet, warm and wet and grinning. Valjean curves both hands around his throat, where the skin is still bare, and they can pretend, for a moment, like Javert isn’t entirely dressed and about to leave.

After probably more than ninety seconds, Valjean breaks off, drops his hands to his sides, rests his forehead on Javert’s shoulder. “I didn’t have any indulgences, either. I think we’re bad influences on each other.”

Javert nods again, slides a hand down the back of Valjean’s neck. “Good thing I’m leaving. To go to work. Where I will not think about you.”

Valjean laughs, takes a step back. “Good. Neither will I.”

“Excellent. Fantastic. Goodbye,” Javert salutes, out of panic, mostly, and Valjean just shakes his head.

***

This is the first time he is late to work. It’s by about six minutes. No one notices.


End file.
